


Bridging the Gap

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, I love tropes, Snowed In, in which everything works out, in which people act like adults for once, kind of, oh no so sad, revival era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: Inspired in part by a prompt during the X-Files Fic Write-In a few weeks back for a trope prompt: Snowed In. Pre-s10, Scully comes home to collect some of her things. This is what happens.





	Bridging the Gap

**Author's Note:**

> Writer's block coupled with technical difficulties (writing this from a borrowed laptop as we speak!) kept this from getting posted any sooner. Part of the TXF Fic Write-In a few weeks ago. I let it sit for a few days (er....like a week?) before dusting it off. This is the end result. Thanks for reading!

Mulder walked into the living room, a comforter draped over his arm and sighed, sitting on the couch as it spilled around him. “The bed is made, you know where everything is....just make yourself comfortable. I’ll set an alarm for the morning to shovel the driveway so you can go.”

Scully watched as he patently avoided looking at her as he spoke. She glanced back out the window at the snow that was falling much harder than it had been when she’d arrived to pick up the last of her belongings to bring to her new apartment. It had been a few weeks since she left, and he’d yet to make any attempt at contacting her, and so curiosity got the best of her and she made the trek home. She hated admitting the fact part of the reason why had been to see if he was even still alive. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Mulder shook his head, clutching a corner of the comforter to his chest. He shivered and pulled more of the fabric up around him. He didn’t know how to tell her sleeping on the couch had been the norm for him ever since she left. “When you left, you said you needed space. Somehow, I doubt the two of us sleeping in the same bed would give you that space you desire so much.”

His biting tone hadn’t gone unnoticed, but considering the fact they would likely be trapped under the same roof for at least the night, picking a fight was probably not the wisest thing to do. “Mulder, we have a spare room.”

Mulder grunted in acknowledgement. He found the “do not remove” tag on the blanket and rubbed at it with the pad of his thumb. “It wasn’t supposed to be spare room.”

“Mulder, don’t,” Scully said, taking several steps backwards towards the window. She breathed in slowly through her nose and rubbed at her arms to ward off the chill. “Sleep on the couch if you want to, that’s fine. But I know the cold isn’t doing anything to help your back pain, and neither will sleeping on the couch. I was just trying to help.”

“You were trying to help when you decided to come back here in the middle of a snowstorm too, weren’t you? You figured you’d remind me what I’m missing out on out here alone by myself,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. He meant them, but he could practically feel her seething across the room. 

“Do you really think now is the best time to do this?” Scully asked, opening her arms wide. “I could not have predicted the snow would be this bad, Mulder, or yes, I probably would have elected to stay at home.”

“This is your home, Scully. Not some one bedroom upscale apartment in the city. Have you even unpacked? Or are you just living out of boxes?” he asked the question, not realizing until he did that he was afraid of the answer. If she’d unpacked, that would imply that she intended to stay. That she meant to get comfortable in the new life she was creating for herself. If she was living out of the boxes, it implied that maybe there was still hope whatever remained between them could be fixed. 

Scully shook her head, watching as he spat a sunflower seed shell into an empty coffee container at his side. She wrinkled her nose but tried to hide it, thinking how some things never changed. “You’re right,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She focused on a small stain on the area rug, smiling to herself upon remembering the night it had been created. She’d come home from a long shift at the hospital and Mulder had been waiting up with a bottle of wine. He said something about dancing, and in his inebriated state, jumped up and asked her to dance, causing the remnants in her wine glass to fall onto the carpet. “This will always be my home, Mulder. But for now, I need some time away.”

“How much time?” he asked. They’d been over this, he knew. When she left, she met him at the door to his study, telling him he needed to get better, for both of their sakes. He went upstairs the next morning and shaved off his beard and even went on a five mile run. The burning in his lungs when he was done reminded him he wasn’t young anymore, and he could barely move for a few days afterward. But he tried. She’d been gone for almost a week when he worked up the courage to go to the grocery store by himself, and several more weeks after that to call the therapist she’d recommended before shutting the door and leaving him behind. “I’m seeing someone,” he finally said when she didn’t speak. He watched as her eyes widened and mentally kicked himself. “A therapist, I mean. Dr. Dixon. You said he was one of the best in his field. I’ve only been twice so far, but Scully? I think it’s working.”

She smiled sadly and moved to sit on the edge of the couch opposite him, careful to leave plenty of room between them. “Mulder, that’s great. I’m proud of you.”

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time someone had said that. “I also went to a meeting.”

“A meeting?” she asked, believing she knew to what he was referring but needing to hear him say it.

He sunk back into the couch and sighed. “A meeting, Scully. Sitting in a circle in a church basement, introducing yourself to strangers, saying the Serenity prayer, even if I’m not sure it works.”

She’d left a little over two months before and had yet to hear from him prior to coming back, but hearing of the progress he’d made impressed her. “That’s good. How do you feel about your progress?”

Mulder shrugged, sinking back into the couch cushions and draping his arm over the back as he popped another sunflower seed into his mouth. “Are you asking as my doctor or as my wife?”

His words hung in the air, and she knew he’d meant it as a challenge. He’d done this sometimes, when he actually acknowledged her in the weeks leading up to her departure. Testing her, seeing how she’d react. Scully closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. The decision to remain his doctor was an obvious one; it was better and perhaps safer that no one else know let alone relive his history. The decision to remain his wife remained in the solid weight of her wedding band, worn on the gold chain around her neck. “Mulder, I--” she said, halting as she felt his fingers brush her hair back, reaching for the band resting against her chest. 

“You kept it,” he said, staring at the solitary diamond, thinking of the day he’d slid it on her finger. After far more years than most would have considered practical, they’d decided to tie the knot, if only to make paperwork easier. They’d always be connected and there was no one else, but making it official had still been one of the happiest days of his life.

Scully pulled his hand way, wrapping hers around it and settling them together in her lap. “Of course I did,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. For professional reasons, she’d worn the ring on her necklace rather than her hand, but doing so meant she could wear it all of the time, rather than having to remove it while in surgery. She traced lines on the back of his hand with her thumb, tongue darting out to moisten parched lips. “Mulder, do you know why I left?”

“You need time, Scully. And I get it. I do. No one would want to be cooped up with a hermit like me one hundred percent of the time, and that’s--” he stopped as she started pulling her hands away. He scooted closer on the couch, clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m getting better. I cook and I clean, and I talk about things with people. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

He was more alive than she’d seen in a long time, a fact that pleased her, but she knew as well as he did that there was still work to do. “I’m proud of you. It’s important that you know that. But a couple of sessions in therapy and swearing off alcohol won’t magically fix all of our problems.”

“I’m sorry,” Mulder replied, nodding his head in her direction. 

“No, you don’t need to apologize for your progress. It’s valid and important. What I meant was--”

“My apology wasn’t for that,” he interrupted. “Dr. Dixon said a part of my recovery would stem from reaching out to those I’ve hurt. I hurt you, Scully,” he said, shaking his head when she started shrinking away from him. “No, I did. I shut you out. But to be fair, I wasn’t the only one shutting people out.”

Scully drew a sharp breath and shook her head, She glanced down at her lap and picked at a hangnail on her thumb. She’d gotten comfortable, finding talking about their problems almost refreshing, but then he’d gone and pressed at the proverbial bruise. “What are you talking about?”

Mulder laughed, the sound coming out louder than he’d intended in the quiet of the room. With the snow piling up and the light coming from the window growing more dim, it was easy to pretend if only for a while they were the only two people around. He ducked his head in her direction, waiting for several seconds to see if she’d look back up at him, but she instead remained focused on her hands. In the earlier days of their partnership, she’d kept her nails trimmed and manicured. After she’d come back from vacation once, he’d even caught her with a pink polish on them. When she returned to the world of medicine however, making sure her hands were perfectly kept suddenly wasn’t as important. She kept he hands in gloves while in surgery, and washed them so often when she wasn’t that it hardly seemed to matter. It was sad, he thought, and another sign of how much had changed. The wind howled outside, and he heard a high pitched whistle, a sign there was a crack in a window or perhaps a door that he’d have to investigate, but for the moment, it didn’t seem as important. Not with them unpacking old wounds and examining what remained. He glanced at her again and sighed, wrapping an arm around his waist and settling deeper into the couch. “You want to sit here and accuse me of shutting you out, or ignoring you, and that’s fine, Scully. You can do that, because I know I’ve been an ass. I get it. But you don’t get to sit here and act as if you haven’t done the exact same thing.”

“So I stare at a computer screen for hours on end and don’t even look up when my spouse enters the room to say hello? I tell you I’m busy when you all but throw yourself at me when we haven’t been intimate in weeks?” Scully replied, feeling as if she earned the burning she felt at the tears pricking her eyes. She shook her head and finally made herself look back up at him. “It got to the point where I missed you when we were in the same room. It felt as if you’d given up, not just on us, but on yourself. I couldn’t stand to sit around and watch you self destruct.”

“That’s...that’s what you do, isn’t it, Scully? When the going gets tough, you quit. You give up. Who cares what anyone else might want or need, you gotta take care of yourself, right?” The words were out of his mouth before he could change his mind, but the second he voiced them, he knew he’d made a mistake. He didn’t have to say the word for her to know exactly what he was referring to. The hurt that suddenly flashed across her features sliced through him and he made a move to reach for her, only for her to jump from the couch, suddenly desperate to get away from him. “I didn’t mean--”

“Yes, you did, or you wouldn’t have said it,” she replied. She pulled the sleeve of her sweater down, curling her fingers over the edges, and it was all she could do to remain still. She focused on the window, on the mirror near the door, on the framed Christmas photo her mother had taken of them several years before. Looking at anything but him seemed easier, especially if she was supposed to talk about what he clearly wanted to. “I did what I had to do, Mulder. You weren’t there. I had no way of contacting you. We’ve been over this.”

“Have we, though? We discussed it once in the motel room a few days after we went on the run, and on his birthday once. When you had the case with that young boy a couple of years ago, too. But every time I bring him up, Scully, you shut me out. You find some excuse to end the conversation. How do you think that makes me feel?” Mulder asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer. He coughed, reaching for a bottle of water on the coffee table. His throat felt sore, due perhaps in part to the fact he’d talked more than he had in a long time. 

Scully sighed and shook her head. She eyed the stairs, thinking of how easy it would be to run up and lock the door. With the weather, it would be dangerous to try and drive away, but she could lock him and the rest of the world away until the snow started to melt. For so long, her pain regarding William had been private. Having to live with the decision she’d made to give him up was difficult, and while she’d known Mulder had loved their son, his relationship with him had been brief. She knew he missed him, or was at the very least curious about the son he’d been robbed of the chance to know, but it wasn’t something they talked about. Cocking her head to the side, Scully leaned against the wall and watched as he stared back at her. There was a time when just a mere look could make her shiver in delight, but there was something different behind his stare now, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she liked it. “Last fall, when you disappeared for a weekend. You told me you were doing research for your novel. But no note, no address to contact you, and when I tried calling, I went directly to voicemail. Where’d you go?”

Mulder laughed bitterly and darted his tongue out to moisten his lips. “Scully, you can’t just change the subject. I know William is an uncomfortable topic for you, but--”

“I’m not changing the subject, Mulder. I’m asking if the reason you took off without telling me is because you went looking for him, when in the past I’ve specifically asked you not to do that,” Scully replied. Asking a man who by his very nature was curious to not go looking for the son they shared hadn’t been an easy request to make, and she knew it wasn’t an easy one to accept, but the fear regarding what might happen to him should anyone know who he was after their searching for him was palpable. 

He knew she had a point, but it hurt to admit it. “I didn’t go looking this time, Scully. I followed your rules, because obviously anything involving him has to go along with what you want.”

“You know how hurt you were when it turned out your leads were wrong last time, Mulder. I don’t want you to get your hopes up only to be disappointed, and I don’t want him to get hurt because we go looking for him,” Scully replied. She turned from him, walking to the window before crossing the room and facing him again. The room felt smaller than she’d remembered. 

“Last time was different, Scully, and you know that. The world was supposed to end, and if it was going to end, I wanted to make sure my son was safe. You can’t really fault me for that, can you?” he asked, sounding more vulnerable than he’d intended to. 

“The world didn’t end though, did it?” she countered, recalling the way he’d holed himself up for weeks in preparation. He’d made calls, tracked maps, and then walked out of his office one morning armed with a backpack full of supplies, telling her he was going to find William. There had been yelling and crying on both sides, but when he stood his ground, she was forced to comply. In truth, if what he had told her regarding everything coming to an end was true, she’d want the heart of her family where he belonged, or to at least know what became of him. But several days later, Mulder returned home with a beard, dark circles under his eyes, and an empty doorway in his wake. His search had turned up nothing, and at the end of the year, his warning was for nothing. She hadn’t known at the time, but things between them wouldn’t be quite the same after that. He’d begun to sink further into himself, and she was powerless to stop it from happening. 

Mulder closed his eyes, shuffling his feet against the carpet, feeling vulnerable under her gaze. The tone of the room had shifted, and he wasn’t entirely certain how to address it. Where they’d been angry moments before, that feeling had dissipated, replaced by the sadness that had always lurked under the surface. He flexed his hands against his legs, resisting the urge to cross the room and hold her. He hurt her, and she in turn had hurt him in her own way, and there was no easy fix to their problem. Even if there were, he thought, he knew nothing could be fixed overnight. He watched the way she shifted, walking to the window before crossing to the television, adjusting the figurines that rested on the shelf next to it before putting them back exactly where they were before. She wiped at her nose with her sleeve a few times and coughed, tucking into herself. “Why don’t you go upstairs and warm up, Scully? You can take a bath while I get the heated blanket warmed up for you.”

“Mulder,” Scully replied, shaking her head and she laughed, suddenly feeling bare under his gaze. She’d wanted to deny being cold, but he knew her better than she liked to admit, and he’d know she was lying. “I didn’t exactly bring anything to wear to bed.”

The fact she hadn’t planned on an overnight stay didn’t phase him. “I’m sure we can find something for you to slip into.”

Scully bit her lip and shrugged. The idea of a hot bath and burrowing under covers until morning came sounded inviting, but the thought of stepping foot into the room they once shared again filled her with trepidation. Mulder had moved, perched on the edge of the couch, ready to jump at the first suggestion she said yes. He was going to therapy--something she’d suggested several times before, and for whatever reason he’d decided to finally follow her advice--and he was trying. She could have refused or insisted they continue the conversation, but didn’t feel as if that was the best idea. “Are we okay?”

He clapped his hands together and stood up, no longer content in simply sitting still. “Considering the circumstances, shouldn’t you be the one to answer that question?”

Rather than replying, she gathered herself and drew in a deep breath before reaching out for his hand.

Mulder’s gaze flicked from her hand back to her face, and he furrowed his brow. “Scully, what’s happening?”

Sensing his hesitation, she crossed the room and clasped his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Her hands were enveloped in his, but she didn’t mind. “It’s getting late, and we need to get some sleep. And frankly, your suggestion of a hot bath before going to bed and keeping the cold at bay sounds rather inviting. So I plan on doing that.”

“And you need me because--”

“Mulder, if the thermal blanket is still on the top shelf of the closet, you stand a better chance of reaching it than I do. Could you help?” she asked, suddenly worrying by his initial lack of response that she’d overstepped some invisible boundary. Traveling the delicate road of no longer living together and yet not feeling as if you were apart was difficult, and she wanted to make an attempt at making things better. If he could try, then so could she.

They’d done this before countless times, spent a lazy evening on the couch before heading upstairs, but they weren’t effectively broken up or on a break as it were at the time. He was pretty sure there were boundaries, but it seemed as if asking him to come upstairs was her attempt at breaking them. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Scully calling him from the foot of the stairs. “Hmm?”

“I asked if you were coming,” she said, wondering once she replied if she was pushing for too much too soon. “You can sleep down here if you want, Mulder, but I just thought--”

He pointed up the stairs, crossing to them and placing a hand at the small of her back, taking a guess at how physically comfortable she might be with the gesture, and smiling to himself when she didn’t pull away. “The door at the end of the hall. I believe you know it?”

She smirked, shaking her head. They’d begun to get things out in the open and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but she was hesitant to push for too much too fast. They weren’t perfect, and she didn’t know if they ever would be, but they were heading in the right direction. “Yes,” she said, nudging his hip with her own. “I believe I do.”


End file.
